Born at the Wrong Time (3)
For a moment, I wondered if I had misheard.
"I hereby make formal announcement of the betrothal between my daughter Elhermina and Kariel."
A betrothal? With Elhermina? Me?
"Mind your expression and your bearing."
The voice at my side snapped me back to my senses. The great princess herself stood there, not a trace of color touched her face as she calmly surveyed a hall drowning in shock.
She knew, then?
If not, that composure of hers made no sense at all. Why? Why?
"……"
Was this, too, the work of that cursed thing they called political judgment?
The Hero Emperor. And beside him, my father — the one who sat at the head of the Nine Heroes. Within the Empire, few commanded the unconditional support of more than two people at once, and that was precisely the problem.
The entrenched powers had never welcomed such absolute authority. These were the high nobles who had kept their seats firm even when the Demon King first stirred and the age collapsed into chaos and war. Not all of them had survived, true — yet rather than shrinking, their bonds had only grown harder and tighter, like metal forged hotter.
But none of that could stand in the way of the tide.
"Not so much as a word of warning, and now this is—"
"You had no intention of listening anyway. Am I wrong?"
"……"
My eyes drifted, unbidden, toward my father and mother — and the instant they met my father's, I caught that exasperated, apologetic smile spreading across his damnable face. My mother, by comparison, looked entirely at peace.
"So your finding me on that terrace was no coincidence."
"…There is no such thing as coincidence in our movements."
She answered plainly. A quiet murmur — barely more than a whisper, yet among us gathered here, not a single soul failed to hear it.
"Even without forcing me into this, the ties between my father and His Majesty were already unshakable, were they not?"
"The world does not believe it."
What?
"What is shown is never enough. The surest bond of all is one that cannot be severed even if you wish to sever it."
And that bond is—
"Blood. The greatest weapon the imperial family possesses."
"……"
This woman.
Does she count even herself among her tools?
"……"
The moment the Emperor finished his proclamation-turned-speech, she fell silent as though she had simply been waiting for her cue. The uproar carried on. Yet no one dared voice open complaint or show outright opposition. Bewilderment rippled through the hall at the sheer abruptness of it all — and then—
"Why, what a joyous occasion this truly is!"
"One more cause for congratulations!"
"Hahaha! If this isn't the very flourishing of the Empire, what is?"
Utterly unperturbed, as if it had always been so. They clapped and laughed, nodded gravely as though this were the most natural course of events, and flung blessings about with unshakable poise.
And that shamelessness of theirs—
Made my stomach… turn inside out.
More than anything, even the vaunted heirs of heroes had apparently received no word of this beforehand. Shock and disbelief spilled past their composure, and in some of them, something close to open fury.
Still, they were not foolish enough to let it show.
They simply stood there.
Eyes burning.
Staring holes through me and nothing more.
If a certain someone who was absent from this hall were to hear this news, I suspected she might quietly drag me off somewhere, never to be seen again.
Not least because the prince, a mere two years the princess's junior, was already glaring at me as though he would tear me limb from limb.
Flattery flew back and forth in every direction. Even the nobles who had spent the past while picking me apart —
To watch them saunter over, serene as saints, babbling about blessing us for a thousand and ten thousand years—
It felt as though my own entrails were rotting in place. That was how vile it was.
Red hair, black eyes. A striking face that had inherited the features of both Emperor and Empress in full measure. And yet, watching something like a demon settle over that face — if the image suited him so well, was that a mere impression on my part, or malicious slander?
"Wow! I genuinely did not see this coming."
"……"
"Repulsive little wretch. You pranced about playing the lofty hermit — did you imagine that would wash your filth clean? And now, of all things, you lay your hands on my sister—"
"Prince Alecius. Compose yourself."
"Compose? You dare say compose to me?!"
…They argue well.
There had been a time when I was swept along by tempers like this, by atmospheres like this, helpless to do anything about either. But no longer. Even this — a storm bearing down on me from all sides — could no longer shake me.
And perhaps that unshaken calm was precisely what irritated him.
"Truly, the only words that come to mind are: how long do you intend to hold that face of yours up so shamelessly? What on earth did they do to talk those two into such an inappropriate decision—"
"Your Highness. That is going too far."
A boy with an expression carved from ice stepped in to restrain the prince. Yet it felt less like a firm barrier and more like careful guidance — keeping him from crossing a line, rather than stopping him outright.
And behind him—
A whole cluster of boys and girls still smoldered with hostility toward me. Younger than their years suggested — every last one of them two or three years below this side, if not by age than by standing. Only two could be called my true peers: the boy holding the prince back—
"……"
—and, somewhere between them, a single girl who only sighed, her face wearing not hostility so much as helpless awkwardness.
"Have you finished saying your piece?"
"What? What did you just say to me?"
"……"
Dealing with them meant nothing but accumulating hassle. That was why I had ignored them, and ignored them, and ignored them still.
…Though ignoring them never actually solved anything either.
"Say it again. What? What about what, and how, and why?"
"Your Highness."
"Don't stop me, Ryunan. Lest I cut this one down where he stands. The great hero's one and only child… ah — no, I suppose even that no longer holds, does it?"
Bare mockery bloomed across the prince's face.
And I absorbed even that.
Calmly. Without a flicker.
"You felt the ground shift beneath you, didn't you? So you cooked up this filthy scheme — if that is the story, then every piece fits together perfectly, doesn't it."
"Standing here will do nothing but spread your bad conduct further, Your Highness. Shall we head inside?"
"What business is it of ours, the games adults play? Are we meant to stand in as bridal attendants?"
A brat with instincts sharp to the point of eeriness. They say no one is born a prince out of boredom — perhaps this one was proof.
"Very well, dullard. This body shall graciously offer you the finest of options. Go before His Majesty and declare that you, of your own will, annul this betrothal. Then every problem resolves itself in peace. How dare the likes of you… lay hands on my sister…"
"Your Highness."
The one restraining, the one ranting — past the point of dislike, both were simply odious in equal measure. Even so, I did not associate with them.
Dogs bark. Cats yowl. Even chickens cry out.
Is there any cruelty greater than telling a creature born with a mouth that it may not make a sound?
"……"
However out-of-the-way this corner might have been, it seemed the crowd draining out of the ballroom was finally thinning — because I could feel a measure of attention beginning to gather. Some of the nobles, their retainers, even the servants handling the menial work nearby.
What a fascinating piece of gossip this would make.
"…Consider yourself warned. See it carried out by tomorrow at the latest."
"Do it yourself."
"What?"
"Has my opinion ever, once, been honored?"
I was seven years old at the time. Heaven only knows what I was thinking back then — but I had left the Imperial Capital of my own accord and spent three years entrusting my safety not only to allied nations but to openly hostile ones as well. A form of diplomacy, they called it. Half sacrifice, half offering. I could barely remember any of it now.
Even after returning like that, twelve years old and home again—
I had never once managed to adapt to life in the capital.
"I am a scarecrow. You all know it full well — and I know it better than any of you."
So.
"Don't haggle with me. Take your grievances to the ones who hold the decision. A child may whine that it wants candy — but whether that candy gets bought rests entirely on the discretion of a guardian with the means to buy it. You know this perfectly well."
"Again! Always spouting things designed to sound impressive! The pretender through and through. What in the world makes you so special, every single time—"
"Was I ever… special? To you?"
A strange thing, this.
They were the gifted ones, the accomplished ones — so why did they ache like this, every time, to pick a fight with me? If anyone should be nursing an inferiority complex here, it was me. Why did it always come out the other way?
But this line of thought, too, had no bottom and no end. There had been a time when I truly wondered if the fault lay in me, when I blamed myself for all of it.
That was the wrong answer.
Those kinds were simply—
…Making me their target, pouring their resentment and hatred onto me, using me as an outlet for emotions they had nowhere else to spend. That was all it had ever been.
I understood it far too late. That was why the wounds ran so deep.
"I shall take my leave."
"I permitted no such thing! Who said you could—"
"Your Highness."
"…Ghk!"
That was the kind he was. Born a man, and still destined to be trampled by a woman in the contest for the throne.
"……"
If I truly became the princess's husband, what sort of face would that brat make?
The stray thought stirred — and I washed it away with a snort. Impossible. Even if, by some miracle, it came to pass—
What lay beyond it was nothing but hell.
And so, just as I was slipping away, making to leave the palace itself—
"Hm? What was that?"
A presence. Invisible, yet vivid beyond telling.
That voice.
It led me somewhere.
Earnestly. Urging my curiosity onward.
As though entranced, I crossed the vast palace, hall by hall, bridge by bridge—
—and before I knew it, I had arrived here.
"The… the Imperial Treasury?"
Why here…?
If I were caught, this would balloon into something absurd. Merely being found in this quarter would be a catastrophe in its own right—
"???"
Why, then, was no one here?
This area was famous for its ironclad security. The entrance alone was sealed behind no fewer than three layers of doors, a place that would never once be opened without an imperial decree.
And yet, for some reason—
It stood wide open.
I stepped inside as though in a dream. And among the countless treasures that filled the vault, my gaze snagged on one thing, and one thing only.
"No — this is wrong. This is a mistake."
I flung aside the invitation to step closer, forced my feet to turn back—
-Are you simply going to walk away?
That voice caught me by the ankle.
"What?"
-So you can hear my voice after all.
My whole body felt as though it were being eaten away by an unease I could not name. I worked my stiffening lips and tongue, forced the words through, and turned my back on her all the same.
And in that moment—
-A rather familiar face. Hmm, let me try a guess. Black hair — her mark, that. Golden eyes. No ornamentation to speak of, but a face handsome enough to make the girls weep… you're their child, aren't you?
Their child?
-Rueld. Ermina. Yes — it must be those two. Right. Names I haven't heard in far too long.
The one who spoke, as though turning old memories over in her hands, was—
A woman wrought of gold.
Ancient white garments draped over what needed covering. Skin like carved white jade, and a cascade of luxuriant golden hair spread rich and full, as though to gather all the rest of her within it.
And above all—
Even those eyes, which seemed ready to drink in the beholder, glowed with a deep, unmistakable radiance — vivid as burnished gold, and somehow, achingly familiar.
The woman of gold.
No finer expression came to mind.
As if the very concepts of beauty and splendor had been distilled into a single form — the sight of her alone seized the eyes, no, the soul itself, and would not let go.
That charm.
That… magic. I could not help but feel it.
"Who… who might you… be?"
I had reached this place carried along by the pull of that earnest cry, by its resonance through me—
-Before you go wondering about that, don't you have something else you ought to be doing?
"I beg your pardon?"
She said:
-If you keep lingering here, you there — you're going to earn yourself a truly absurd misunderstanding.
"That…"
She wasn't wrong.
And then—
"Who goes there?!"
"No! How — how could this happen?!"
"The treasury is breached! No — an intruder!"
By the time any of us noticed—
It was already far, far too late.
I had become an uninvited trespasser in the heart of the Imperial Treasury.